A life for a life
by CuteMcBeauty
Summary: Captain Killian Jones has finally found a niche of happiness, married Emma and settled to live in Storybrook, raising Henry as his own... only to find out that three hundred years of drinking rum have taken a serious toll on his health and is on his final legs. Whale has given him no more than two months of life. But Emma won't give up so easily...
1. Chapter 1: Killian

Part one: Killian.

How I miss the ocean!

There is an exhilarating sense of freedom when one's atop the deck of a wooden sea vessel, crossing the oceans; the scent of salt and it's gritty taste on your lips, the winds that blow your ship around, under the whim of the weather, the vast, endless view of the sea and the sky, unified by a distant line that can only be seen at dawn and dusk, between the golden reflection of an emerging or setting sun… and just the immensity of the starry night above your head. The stars have always been there and will continue to be there long after this world and all the others that sit parallel to it are long gone.

And they will very certainly be there long after I draw my final breath, which, alas, might not be too long from now.

I still chuckle at the irony; I'm no older than thirty seven and yet I am over three hundred. By any standard I should have been pushing up the daisies since many years ago and yet, I feel I am still too young to die. I am now the same age my brother Liam was when he passed away in my arms. My darling brother, my only family… And then, there was her, with her dark hair and deep, blue eyes, my Milah, who quite literally died (also in my arms, might I add) from a crushed heart, slain by the husband whom she had abandoned only a year earlier. My, how the years passed, not slowly, mind you, but swift like a northern wind, pushing my thirst for revenge and fueling my anger together with the white and crimson sails of my only other love: my ship, The Jolly Roger. My desire to claim his life… it was that sunken feeling of wanting payback for my love's untimely demise that kept me young for so many years. It could easily be said, that if I were to join some sort of support group, I'd go for anger management… and maybe that which the people of this realm call the A-A. I might just have a small, petty drinking habit. It really is nothing extraordinary; after all, my loves, who has ever heard of a pirate with no small bottle of cheap, handmade rum safely tucked in his inner coat pocket?

Well…, alas, my love of the buccaneer's bevvy is costing me my life now. Now, at last, when I have finally found peace, when love has come back into my life through so many years of darkness and shone a light of hope in my heart, now that I have found meaning and desire to live, to breathe, to love, to laugh and just feel joy… now, just now, I am diagnosed with a terminal liver ailment. "Three hundred years of boozing will do that to you…" Dr. Whale had said to me. "I am so sorry, Killian."

Devil knows what he called it; I believe he said… wait, I jotted it down somewhere, let me… ah this bloody hook… right, here it is: _Cystic fibrosis in stage two cirrhosis of the liver_. Bloody hell… Basically, and to make matters short and easy to understand, my liver's turning into a black rock. And in this realm of no happy endings, where no measure of magic can undo what the cogs and coils of fate have set in motion for me, it basically means my failing organ will not so slowly poison my blood until I cease to be. Like Dreamshade, only slower. In no more than a month and no less than one week, I will be dead.

I have already written a letter; in it I specifically asked to be taken out to sea in my Jolly Roger… and be set light to so I can melt into the horizon with my faithful ship. Me crew has slowly died through the years while the unnatural life their captain enjoyed allowed me to see each and every one of them sadly disappear into Davy Jones' Locker. I figured it fitting for me to join them there… with a little more glamour, of course, a dashing death for a dashing pirate.

I sit now here, atop a fence in this modern town of Storybrooke, waiting to see her, as always. At eight sharp in the morning, she steps into that pub house called Granny's and emerges with a bagel and a tall cup of black coffee. She blows into it twice, sometimes three times, and takes a tiny sip through that little peephole on the lid. She usually will burn the tip of her tongue and fan her open mouth with the hand holding the paper bag with the bagel in it and then she will walk the block to the brig. That's what she does: She's what they call a "Sheriff", a trooper and a soldier and yes, a savior. She has saved each and every living thing that now dwells in this village, my sad besotted self included.

She has a son. He is sixteen now. He's a mighty good lad, with a good heart and a keen eye to see the good in people whom anyone else might deem beyond repair. I knew his father, back in Neverland, where I dwelt for so many years (hence my very elderly yet still young and handsome as all hell condition) in search of living long enough to find a way to slay the man who killed my Milah. But when a boy named Baelfire (Bae, we all called him) was washed up into the Jolly Roger, it set in motion a whole lot of events that would lead me to the woman I love now… You see, that lively lad I rescued was the son of my late love Milah and her husband, Rumplestiltskin, who made it his devilish task to see to her death, not to mention the tragic loss of my left hand and my utter misery. I knew he doted on his boy; probably the only strain of kindness in his heart. Killing the lad would have damaged his soul enough for him to wish for death and hopefully, bring about my own and allow me to join my Milah. But the boy had her smile; I could not bring myself to kill him, to harm anything that would have come from her womb… he could have very well been my own child. So I took it upon myself to train him as a skilled sailor, maybe a lieutenant, later in life. He soon became like a son to me, or a younger brother, not to mention an apt seaman and a fast learner.

Alas, it was not meant to be… We fell out, and he came to this realm, where he met that darling creature with the coffee and the bagel, and together, they begot a son.

He died a few years back, saving his father's life… that same immortal father whom I have discarded from my black list, both out of pity as well as for the love I feel for his grandson. Oh, the irony that I should indeed go before him! So many years I planned and plotted for revenge… and then, seeing this poor, shriveled man lose first the son he adored and then his wife… that poor girl. I had tried to hurt her before, but lived to regret it. Blind anger can make a man do many a thing he'll be sorry for. Belle had also recently left this world after a tragic miscarriage. He may have been my foe, but I do know the feeling of losing the woman you love and at this point in life, now that I can clearly tell good from evil and think of myself as a fairly decent bloke, I would not wish that angst and pain on anybody, not even Rumplestiltskin.

As for Bae, to this day I visit his gravesite and after I ensure no one is watching, I produce a flower, which I place atop the soil that covers his casket. I also normally shed a tear or two for my late, almost adoptive son-brother and rival.

Then there's her.

I met her in my quest for revenge, six years ago. Indeed she was beautiful, but being the ruggedly handsome man that I am, female beauty of the flesh was not an uncommon or unobtainable asset for me; I had had many a man's wife, daughter, sister and maid. So that in itself was not what made me fall for her. I'd rather say that it was her inner fire that caught me like a bug circling a lit torch. She is a woman of strength and resilience, probably the only person intelligent enough to outsmart a cunning pirate like myself, not once, but repeatedly. She, just as I, knew what it was to lose hope, to love and get your heart broken. She was not one to be jested with; and her fear of going through life unloved, that other, tender side to her, that need for her to have someone just wrap her arms around her and be there, no matter what… that was my final undoing.

My lady Swan… my Emma.

It took aches and pains and more than a few drinks to get her to finally stop seeing me as an unreliable former foe. She was distrustful, as was I. How could we not, with the lot we both got in life? But we found each other. I fell for her from the moment she pulled my hair and held a knife to my neck. What! I AM a pirate; I like the rough life, all right? She was able to see through me just as much as I saw through her, something no one else in any realm had been able to do. I think it was just as much of a surprise to her as it was to me. She was good in a blade fight as well. I had to fight her more than once, but I never would have hurt her; it would have been like hurting a half of my own heart. Every passing moment I kept thinking of ways (excuses, rather) to get back to her, maybe even side with her, and when the opportunity to save her son arose, I didn't hesitate. She kissed me then, once… and my fate was sealed. I fell like a ton of rocks. She had warned me I wouldn't be able to handle it and she had been right; I was completely undone by her kiss and the hopeful promise of maybe eventually getting another, more meaningful one replaced what hatred and vengeance remained in my heart with the beacon of hope that was Emma Swan. Then there was that bloody curse that separated us for a whole year until, once again, I found myself in the perfect spot to get her back into my life… so I found her, jogged her memory, and brought her back to the town where I continued my wooing of her through the dangers of highly rabid flying apes who had once been innocent bystanders, and a green-skinned sorceress who nearly finished us all… she eventually yielded one night, after one too many attempts on my part to claim her heart; I had managed to set up a perfect candlelit dinner atop the deck of the Jolly, surprised her by showing her I could actually dance (and that I did have more wardrobe in my quarters aside from my usual leather getup) and showed her all that I knew about the stars of her realm which, I must say, are beyond fascinating; she leaned into me, kissed my lips, called me by my name, embraced me, shared my bed, made love and entwined her soul with mine. Bliss, in all the extension of the word. And we have hardly spent a night apart since.

Bloody hell, who would have known that that bright, beautiful angel would turn out to be the true love of a no good, vengeful ruffian such as I?

Like every morning, she sipped her coffee. But she didn't walk to her brig. She frowned and looked immediately in my direction. Busted. And, like always, I fell into her bewitchingly adorable smile as she walked to me.

Placing her coffee on the fence, she placed her arms around me neck and gave me a gentle, happy kiss. "Didn't feel you getting up this morning…" She smiled.

I rolled my eyes and lied. "You know I don't like to be seen visiting Bae's grave love…"

"Really?" She moaned.

"I have a thing!"

She narrowed her eyes. "I've seen you naked and without your hook brace, how much more of a "thing" can one have, Killian?"

I had to laugh. "That you have, love. Point taken. And proud to return the favor." I added a wink to the line.

She looked into my eyes as I desperately tried to conceal my sadness, but instead of carrying on with her chatty talking, she furrowed her brow at me. "Something's up, isn't there? Something's going on."

"Well, you're the all-seeing one, not I."

She put her bagel beside her coffee and came back to my face, studying it. Did I mention I also loved her funny little skill to see clean past a person's lies?

"Hook…"

"Swan…"

"What aren't you telling me?"

I sighed deep and bit my lower lip as I tried to divert my gaze elsewhere. I hated this; I hated it more than I hated this realm's visual rendition of Peter Pan and its completely unrealistic and unflattering version of myself. And that's saying a lot. But if one policy had won me the heart of Emma Swan and in turn, her hand in marriage, it had been honesty, something rather precious and hard to come by when you're a pirate. Why should I start deceiving her now?

"Killian?"

I closed my eyes and nodded. "Yes, darling. There is something."

Oh, I loved that little scorn she made when a particularly painful problem arose, where she'd press her lips together and look down. She reached out and grabbed her coffee and bagel and turned to me. "Walk with me…"

We reached the brig (she called it police station) and she set her drink and breakfast down on her desk. I sat on the chair before it and she saddled herself on the desk. "Ok, spill." She sighed in all seriousness. "What have you done now?"

I laughed a sad laugh. "It's not so much what I've done, love, but what I will do soon."

"Shit, you're not in another epic rumple-killing binge, or anything of that kind again, are you?" She raised her brows. "The poor guy's been through enough, baby, I'll have to chain you to the cell…"

"Yeah, you do have a thing for that, don't you? Sounds sexy…" I raised my eyebrow at her. "But no, love, the dark one's life is permanently safe from my hook now. And I mean permanently."

"Well…" she leaned over, looking more concerned than anything. "What is it?"

I don't often weep in front of people; call it misogynistic if you will, but eighteenth century Enchanted Forest Captains don't usually burst into a melodramatic episode when they ache, especially not in front of a lady. But this time, the thought of hurting her, the idea that yet again her love would leave her, the idea of her crying over me and hating her miserable luck was enough to set me off. Not the insanely loud hollers of a hysterical maiden bawling… but I hung my head and wept all the same.

"Oh no…" I heard her whisper. "You… didn't go to see Neal, did you?" I could hear her voice cracking in unison with my heart. "You got the test results…"

I sniffed and looked up. "Aye…"

"And they're not good…"

"They're not, my love…"

She swallowed. "Well?"

I once again reached into my pocket and produced the paper with the diagnosis. She read it at least ten times (I could tell she was going over it; I knew how she moved her eyes when she was unable to focus) before looking at me, tears welling in her own eyes. "Does this mean…?"

I stood up and held her to me. "Aye, love. It does."

She held me back and I could feel her shaking her head in repeatedly adamant "no" motion. How I hated to see her cry.

"There must be something that can be done!" She pulled from me. "I mean, Regina or Mr. Gold, they could…"

"No magic can heal this, Emma." I whispered. "Were it a sleeping curse, or anything from our land, magic would work. But you know that that's not the case here!"

"Bullshit!" She shouted. "Rumple cured Belle when you shot her!"

I winced at the memory. "That was a flesh wound, love, this is a terminal disease! A life for a life is the only way and that's rather unthinkable at this point."

"Well, I'm not giving up until I hear it from him AND Regina AND I all put together!" She hollered. She did that a lot when she was sad; I was her own way of masking her pain.

I sighed and walked to her, cupping her in my arms once more. "I already spoke to Mr. Gold, darling. That's why I left so early. I got the results last night. And if Rumplestiltskin himself was unable to save his own son when Bae gave up his life for him, and was helpless as his son lay dying … Regina won't be able to, either. He has enough to deal with, first his son and then his pregnant wife… Emma…" I held her face in my good hand and hooked her right arm, pulling her to me. "...You know how that goes, my love, once a life is lost, the only way to stop or revert that demise is with the hefty cost of another life…" I hugged her as she wept miserably in my arms. "I've had it with death… no one will die now, especially not for a waste of human blood such as I…"

"You're not a waste…" She wept, muffled by my chest. "You were never a waste."

I sank my face in her hair and took a deep breath. Oh these memories were the ones I'd take! Her scent, her soft, milky skin grazing mine while making love, the whisper of my name in my ear from her lips, the twinkle in her eye, her smile the day she said "I do", the sight of her being a mother to the son whom I now loved as my own and her uncanny ability to make me smile and bring out the best of me under the direst circumstances… why did it have to be so?

That night, we spent it alone on my ship. We left a note for Henry at the flat, telling him we'd be out; he must have been relieved, thinking that if his old lady and her bow (his stepfather now) were to have a night to themselves it was probably awkward for it to happen in an open loft apartment where even the faintest sound of a mouse running through the pipes would be heard from bathroom to kitchen to dormitories. And we were rather loud, so it was a safer bet.

It was a sad but beautiful night for both. We ate, talked about other trivialities, made love at least three times and then cried ourselves to sleep, rocked by the gentle tide under the Jolly Roger. I caressed her mop of golden tresses and tried to keep my weeping as quiet as possible so as to not wake her up.


	2. Chapter 2: Emma

**Part two: Emma**

This was supposed to be a happy day.

It was his birthday. If we set aside the fact that he spent (wasted) so much time in Neverland, he was merely in his thirties, biologically. Dr. Whale had given him an accurate chronology of thirty seven, maximum. I was thirty three, so even if I knew he was older (far older… over three hundred years older), we settled for the biology of our bodies and forgot the trivial time continuum matters that seemed to loom around his persona. Killian James Jones was born on August 7, some three hundred and something years ago. And he probably knows every little insignificant trivia about me, much as I know his own: He is a Leo and has the cockiness of his star, hates jello, loves chocolate, has taken a strange liking to coffee, snores only when he sleeps face down, is a sleepwalker, loves shopping for eyeliners which he wears better than I do, makes nautical knots with one hand while he watched tv, has a mole on his right butt cheek, can rouse up one heck of a paella, hums in the bath or shower, has a few more tattoos sprinkled randomly around his body, loves dogs, likes cats, hates rats and is actually scared of spiders with a leg span bigger than his thumb (no one is supposed to know about that last thing). Oh, and he does drink rum. Always. A habit that while at first just seemed to match his "pirate" side, was definitely a drinking problem. Funny… it had been that same brand of pirate, homemade rum of his that had made me fall for him even before I realized it; we had climbed up a beanstalk together. At that point he was practically a stranger with a partially convincing story and a massive libido that he didn't seem to be able to contain whenever a woman was around. But he had sort of seen clean through me, saying things about me he had no way of knowing; that alone was intriguing. When we reached the top, I had a nasty cut on my left hand. He held my arm steady with his… hook. Yeah. His hook. With his right hand, he poured some of that boozy distill of his, which burned bad, and then tied his own scarf around it. In lack of one hand to tie it up, he tugged at it with his teeth, staring into my soul as he did. And I was weak at the knees; cupid had struck gold with the most unlikely candidate. I made a mental note to rip cupid's balls off as soon as I got the chance.

We had shared a connection since then and it slowly, gradually, painfully evolved into love. I guess when it's meant to be, it's meant to be.

Instead of waking up with a happy birthday card for him, I was risen from his side by a terrible nightmare… oh, wait, it wasn't a nightmare. He had told me earlier on that he was dying. I stood up and carefully slipped out from under his embrace, one that I have come to love more than life itself. Who would have thought? Captain Hook and Emma Swan; the pirate and the savior, the villain and the hero, the rouge Navy Lieutenant and the heir to the throne of the Enchanted Forest… each other's one true love. Mind boggling, especially when you have just been slapped around the face with news that this guy, who worked his butt off to get me to fall for him and who had proven beyond the shadow of doubt to be far more than anything I had originally expected him to be, would die. Just like Graham… and Neal.

Maybe I am jinxed. That's the only explanation I find suitable to explain why every man I love dies.

It had been a couple of months earlier that I had noticed he was looking a little bit strange. He was tired for long periods of time during the day and from time to time his foot would swell for a few hours before returning to its normal size. Then there was the discomfort around his abdomen which also came and went. On one occasion he did say he felt as if "I had flipped ten silver coins into my mouth, licked them around and spat them back out for good measure"… and as an experienced survivor of the foster system, I had grown up around enough malnourished kids to know jaundice when I saw it. His nails looked yellowish and earlier that week, his hand did too. Killian is probably the worst patient in the world, so it took us a while to get him to do the studies. I sense it's more to do with him being terrified of the result rather than any macho pirate stance. But now that the results had come through, a part of me wished we had remained in blissful ignorance.

I stared at him as he slept; there was no trace of his troubled past on that brow; I had seen it slowly wear off as we got to know each other. He truly didn't look like a man with a month of life to go, two at best.

Shit. Just… ah, shit.

At what point in this crazy life of mine did I take that u-turn into the twilight zone that had not only led me to discover that this average Boston orphan was the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming, but that had also delivered me into the arms of the infamous Captain Hook, who by the way, turned out to be nothing like the famously periwigged, 'tash-waxed Cap who is terrified of clocks and crocs? And of all things, why, now that we had finally made a very comfortable niche together, was he about to die on me?

I zeroed on a large parchment on his central map table; I took his shirt and slipped it on (frills are not my thing, but he somehow sort of rocked the frills like a boss) and I felt a shadow of a grin cross my lips to see the inkwell and quill sitting atop the table. His handwriting was beautifully flawless, like typical old handwriting with curves and lines and perfectly straight calligraphy. The beauty of the parchment, however, did not match its content. It was a letter addressed to me, asking me to make him some sort of Viking funeral once he was gone. It broke my heart as I carefully studied and ran my eyes up and down the text, his last will and testament being this oddly beautiful document. I was unable to hold back the tears that left my eyes and ran down my cheeks to the floor and I swallowed a sob as I pictured his every word, almost like a movie.

_My darling Swan:_

_I beg of you not to grieve too much for this wanderlust pirate husband of yours. It is how it is; tic-toc, time runs out for us all. But rest assured, my love, that during our time together, I was immensely blessed. I never loved anyone the way I have loved you and will do so until this universe ceases to exist. I will watch over you, Emma Swan-Jones, every single day until I see you again. You and Henry must find joy elsewhere. As for me, I only ask of you one favor: Do not imprison me in a box underneath the earth. I am a sea Captain, love; the Jolly is my home. Hence, I ask you to place me on the top deck, right by the helm. If you must weep, if you must do a wake for me, do so there. Leave your flowers around me, cut the ropes that tie the main sails and raise the anchors before you walk the gangplank down to the Storybrooke harbor, so she can sail off into the sunset. Get Mr. Robin of Locksley to aim a fiery arrow to the front deck; there is rum on that ship, so it will set alight quickly. Allow the ship to burn in its entirety and me with it. And after that, my love, be free and happy, for I will do so too. Do not look back, ever. But do remember me for the man you managed to dig out from beneath the muddy rot that your dear Captain Hook was… and take his love with you forever, my lady Swan, my love, my heart's content… my savior._

_Yours for all eternity and till we are reunited once more, _

_Your Killian._

"Right, that… is… it…" I sniffed and looked around for my clothes. I dropped the parchment back on his table and after only putting my boots on, I ran up to the deck to get some air. Once I got there, I exploded in tears of rage. "It's unfair! It's so unfair!" I shouted to anyone who would have wanted to hear.

Once I had simmered down a little, I managed to see past the tears and look at the stars. It was easy to understand what was Hook's infatuation with them: They were magnificent. The night was cool and peaceful. In the far distance I could hear the tolling bell of a buoy, and the mild sound of the water slapping against the concrete of the pier would have been relaxing if my mind hadn't been reeling from the notion that the man I loved, the man that had shared my ongoing adventures by my side, who had endured my cold shoulder and my love for one who was almost his brother, the man who had all but sworn to me that he'd win my heart (and had)… the man I had accepted to marry and spend my life with… was soon to die.

"Emma?" Came Killian's soft, coarse voice from behind.

I turned and found him standing, wrapped in the blanket, his hair standing from the shape of the pillow and with a small liner smudge under his right eye. And I loved him even more then and there. I grinned and walked to him. "God, you're a mess…" I smiled.

He allowed me to fall into his embrace and wrapped me underneath the blanket, sitting me with him on the riser in center deck. He cradled me like a child and repeatedly kissed my forehead as he hummed a melody.

"Killian…" I whispered.

"Yes, love?"

"I won't let you die."

He sighed and held me harder. "We've been through this, my sweet…"

"I know, I know, but…" I sighed. "I am the friggin' savior, Hook, I'll find a way to save you."

"You know that you already have, Emma…" He whispered against my forehead. "You made a man of honor out of a murderous pirate."

"Yeah, your gain, my loss…" I grinned. "If I don't do anything and you die, who do you think will be there to pick up the pieces?"

He closed his eyes hard. "Henry… poor lad…."

"He already lost his biological father..." I raised a hand to his face and caressed it, feeling his stubbled jaw in the palm of my hand. "You're his father now, he loves you; I won't let him lose you too."

He looked at me, studying my face, and kissed me on the forehead before leaning his rough jaw on my head with a sigh and a grin. "Well, if there's anything I can commend you for, Swan, is your implacable headstrongness."

I chuckled. "You said it in Neverland… you've yet to see me fail."

He remained quiet, simply holding me there beneath the starry night. He finally drew a deep breath and pressed me hard against him. "Fine, love. We'll see what can be done. Just… promise that if events should not unfold the way we want them to…"

"Killian…"

"Shh, darling, please… if I should die, you'll do as it says in the parchment. Do we have a deal?"

For me to agree to that deal was akin to admitting the possibility of failing, and losing Killian to a ridiculously mundane liver disease was one thing I was damn far from willing to accept; we had survived swerving vortexes, mermaid attacks, ogres, swordfights, flying monkeys, heart ripping and all sorts of black magic. But for his peace of mind, I nodded and grinned, "I promise." before stretching my neck to meet his lips, gently and tenderly, to then fall back into my cradled position in his arms.

Later that day, Killian went to Dr. Whale to ask him for the physical test results while I went back to Mary Margaret's apartment. Good thing Hook and I decided to spend the night at the Jolly; everyone had been home then and it would have been awkward and a little odd. We had already talked about getting our own place, a bigger place, maybe closer to the docks so Killian could keep an eye on his beloved ship from the window. But as I set foot in the apartment, the joyful family sounds of my parents and my son chattering around before breakfast did little to cheer me up. I let myself in and I received Mary Margaret's sickeningly optimistic smile, first thing.

"Well, look who's here! Didn't think we'd see you two till way after noon. And where's the birthday boy?" She looked at me oddly as I closed the door behind me. "Killian's not with you?"

I frowned and sighed, shaking my head. Everyone mimicked me, immediately noticing there was something off.

"Mom?" Henry sneered. "Where's Killian?"

"He's, erhm… "I placed a strand of my hair behind my ear. "He's over at the hospital, talking to Whale…"

Mary Margaret circled around the kitchen bar to where I stood, and sat me down before the table. "Is everything alright?"

David stood from the window couch and joined us. "What's wrong, honey?"

I sighed deep and tapped my finger on the table. I couldn't look at anyone in my family in the eye as I spoke. "He's sick… he's very sick."

"Care to elaborate on 'sick', mom?" Henry whined.

I took another deep breath. "He…. He'd been looking a bit ill for the wear for a while and… I got him to get some studies done. Turns out his age is catching up on him, at least his liver's age." I swallowed. "He has a third stage liver failure… cirrhosis, to be precise." I felt the tears once again burn my eyes but they refused to fall. "He has one month… two at best."

Mary Margaret gasped and took a hand to her mouth; David shook his head and hung it low with a huff and Henry leaned into my chest for a hug. I caressed his ashy brown hair, so much like his late father's, and kissed the top of his head. "I'm sorry kid… I really am sorry…"

"But… there must be something we can do!" Mary Margaret raised her hands. "We can't just sit by and watch the man idly wind down into his deathbed!" She stood up and walked to David, who embraced her gently as he always did. "Maybe get a second opinion? We CAN leave Storybrooke now!"

"It's terminal…" I gasped, still holding my son and feeling slightly damn, a signal that he was in tears now. "You'll hear the same thing anywhere you go. Three hundred years drinking hard rum won't go unnoticed, guys…"

David ran his hand down his face with a huff. "Damn, now that I actually got to love the guy…"

"But mom, we can't just… give up on him!" Henry sat up and cleaned off his tears. "I mean, what if my mom or… Mr. Gold…"

"He's already talked with Gold." I shook my head. "If anyone attempted to try and save Killian at this point, it would be like… well, like what happened with Neil…"

"A life for a life…" Mary Margaret hung her head.

"Yeah…"

There was a long silence, cut short by a metallic tap on the door. Three taps with the hook.

Henry stood and opened to find his stepdad standing there, sad eyed but clean and dressed in his traditional leather getup. "Did I miss breakfast?" He smiled. None of us smiled back. "Well… did somebody die?"

Killian had a very dark and twisted sense of humor that would have normally made our eyes roll in distaste, but I chuckled. Mary Margaret and David chuckled. But henry looked up into his eyes and spontaneously hugged him hard. Killian was taken by surprise and his cheeky smirk disappeared as he hugged his adopted son back, hooked arm around his shoulders and his good hand rubbing his hair as he leaned his face into the top of his head. "It's just not fair…" he whined before pushing him back and running out the stairs.

Killian stood there, stung, licking his lips and looking to the floor. "Well, I guess he didn't take it very well…"

"How could he?" Mary Margaret shook her head. "You're the only father he's ever really had."

"That, I know love…" He nodded with a grin as he stepped indoors and shut the door behind him. "I'm well aware of the implications behind this conundrum…"

David stepped close to him. "Conundrum? Dude, this is a major friggin' problem! How can you be so flippant?"

Killian smiled his cynical smile as he pushed past him. "I knew I'd win you over someday, highness." He paced to the table and sat beside me, holding my hand. "How you holding up, love?"

"What makes you think I'm holding up?"

He sighed.

Mary Margaret sat beside him. "We have to figure out a way out of this…." She placed her gentle, white hand on his shoulder. "You're family now. We stick together, no matter what."

That elated an especially warm grin on his face. "Thank you…"

David sat in front of him. "And… how do you feel? Right now?"

"That depends…" Killian replied. "You mean emotionally or physically? Because of course, you might imagine that it gives me no great pleasure to break the hearts of those who matter to me… but physically?" He huffed. "I must confess I've seen better days. It hurts. And I feel weak most of the time now."

There was a long silence; I refused to let go off his hand.

"What if…" Mary Margaret started. "…Neverland?"

We all turned our heads to her simultaneously. Killian chuckled. "Don't take this the wrong way, love, but that's the daftest idea…"

"No, hear me out!" she stood up. "We've been there before and made it back! All of us!"

"Yeah, barely!" I exclaimed.

"But with Pan and the lost boys gone, there might be a chance…" David stood up. "If we can get you to drink from that stream, the one you saved my life with…"

"…and, I'd never be able to leave Neverland." Killian grinned.

"Well, it was a safe bet that I'd die there and yet, here I am! I am perfectly fit! Maybe it won't be the cure but it will sure as hell give us the time to find one!" He paced to Killian and placed a hand on his shoulder. "You did it for me, man, I owe you a favor. I'm ok with that idea…"

"Yeah… think of it as… a camping trip!" Mary Margaret chirped, nodding. "A family camping trip."

I thought about it for a while and realized that it was probably the only thing I could also think of that would likely save his life. We could bring back a few bottles of that water and get ourselves some time to figure out a way to help Killian. I looked into his eyes. He furrowed his brow. "Darling, Neverland? It's folly! Why would anyone want to go back there?"

"Why? Really? You're asking why?"

Killian was about to reply when Henry came back in. He slammed his old story book in the middle of the table. "You're not supposed to die, Hook!" he ran through the pages and stopped at an illustration that (wow) depicted me, smiling, holding a little baby in my arms… and Killian's face, right behind my shoulder, smiling down at the child. "See? You guys are supposed to have a baby! And as far as I can tell, mom, you're not looking pregnant enough to have it before Killian…" he swallowed and shook his head, dismissing the horrid "d" word, and continued. "Anyway, this means that something has to be done!"

Killian looked at me in sudden shock, raising an eyebrow at me. "Is there anything that you might be holding back on me, Swan?"

I sneered. "No! At least not that I know of!" All eyes were on me. "Aw come on! I think I'd suspect something if I were pregnant, don't you?"

Killian tapped the tip of his hook on the table. "So… I hate the idea of dying as it is, but if I were to leave this world with a small child of my own rendered fatherless, then I'll be REALLY pissed off…"

I huffed. "Well, then, that settles it. Neverland it is. And while we're at it, let's figure out why the book says one thing and life tells us another…" I looked at him. I could get lost in those deep, meaningfully blue eyes of his. He was dubious, but after a few seconds he rewarded me with a side grin and a mild huff.

"Very well. Best ask Tink, Gold, Regina, anyone, whether or not they can come up with any ideas to take us there and back." He stood up and headed for the door. "I'll go get The Jolly ready…"

"Hook, wait!" Mary Margaret ran behind the counter as Killian turned around. She produced a small, home baked cake with three lit candles, and started singing "Happy birthday to you…"

He sighed deep and a broad smile emerged on his face. Sadness and worry dissipated from his face as he stepped back to the table. We all joined in the song and he blew his candles while we applauded.

"Nothing like a small sense of normalcy when all is spiraling down to hell…" Henry laughed.

"Three? I'm turning three now?" Killian raised his blue eyes to Mary Margaret.

"Each one is ten years. You're thirty seven today. I could have added seven smaller candles but it would have felt like a personal pun on my life and I don't think you'd have the lungs to blow out three hundred plus candles anyway, captain."

He rolled his eyes up at her, playfully. "It's my liver that's failing, milady… you can't imagine the wonders I can do with my lungs…"

Mary Margaret rolled her eyes. "Hook, did you just flirt with my wife?" David sneered.

Killian frowned and looked at me. "Did I flirt, love?"

I smiled and hugged him from behind. "Yep. You totally did. But I'm starting to think that that's just the way you're made."

Rarely did anyone have the privilege of seeing Captain Hook blush, so this was a rather precious moment. He looked at Mary Margaret and bowed his head slightly. "My apologies, milady." He then looked back at her with a very sincere grin. "And I can't thank you enough for this kind gesture…"

"Hey.." She grinned back and handed him a knife to cut it. "That's what family's for. Now cut!"

And he did. So in spite of the tragic news, we held hope high. I never wanted him to leave my side, ever. Not after our long history, not like this… and certainly not if we were destined to bring a child into this world together. We'd make him well.


	3. Chapter 3: Henry and I

**Chapter three: Henry and I.**

While my precious family wondered how they'd get me to Neverland, I dabbled around my work desk at the docks. Yes, I got me a work desk. Safe to say I am the official coast guard of Storybrooke. Fitting, especially when I have a mile long history of piracy, banditry, assault, loitering and military desertion, but my wife being the sheriff and my very much redeemed character compensated for that past and at least the job got me a view of the sea every day and was as close to my ship as I could get without actually being on it. It's always a pleasantry to waken to the sound of sea gulls and bells from the ships in the harbor. Although, in all honesty, I am not too sure that these modern motorboats tickle my fancy any; there's hardly any craft left in sailing and navigating here. Henry tried his best to teach me how to use some odd gadget called a GPS, but I still find the stars and a sturdy metal sextant to be a lot more reliable than any modern technology.

"How's the horizon fairing this morning, Captain?"

I turned sharply to find Henry stepping into my quarters.

"Henry!" I smiled. "Why aren't you at school, lad? Your mother will have my heart if she finds out you're here."

He sat next to me. "Remember that night after we buried my dad, that you tried to teach me how to navigate the stars?" He sighed.

"All too well, boy."

"We never quite got around to doing that."

"It was understandable." I grinned. "You were far too upset and you hadn't quite had your memories back, so it was a far better idea to just sort of... have a man-to-man that evening."

"I actually appreciated that."

"I know, lad."

He remained quiet as we both looked into the horizon. "I did make one heck of a nautical knot, though..."

I laughed aloud. "That you did! Better than any knot I could have done at your age; you got sea legs."

He turned to me. "When was the first time you ever... you know... sailed?"

"Gods, such a long time back!" I smiled. "But I must have been a wee lad still, maybe even younger than you."

"Tell me."

He had inherited that persistent trait from his mother, one of wanting to know everything within his audible power. And I loved it in him as much as I did in his mum.

"I was maybe ten. My brother was thirteen. We volunteered to join the navy but we were of course, far too young, so we sort of... cleaned the decks and waxed the ships. Our father was also a sailor. Walked out on us a year earlier and Liam and I were all but alone in the world. The sailors rather pitied us, so they fed us in exchange for letting us do their chores; maybe that was the main reason why we got there... to have a meal and a decent bed." I laughed aloud. "The first time we ever took to sea, I was sick. couldn't keep my stomach."

"You? The great Captain Hook?" He laughed aloud.

"Aye, lad. I was so ill I couldn't eat for three days. But Liam had it in his blood. He had the steadiest legs, so they made him a sailor by the time he was fourteen. It took me a while longer to get my bearings."

Henry nodded. "I'm sorry he died."

"Aye." I sighed. "There's not a day that passes that I don't remember him in one way or another."

He pressed his lips together. "I wish I had a brother... You know, someone I could watch over and fight with and all that stuff..."

I didn't know what to think of his comment, but I wound up smiling at him. "Well, then, let's hope that book of yours is an accurate oracle and I get to live long enough to see the day that happens."

"Naa." Henry smiled. "I said "a brother"! You guys are supposedly set to have a little girl... Not that I'd mind, a baby sister sounds like a really cute thing."

A girl? Had he just said we'd have a daughter? I must have looked truly moonstruck by the thought because Henry chuckled and patted my shoulder. "I take it that's a thought you could live with..."

"Aye, lad, indeed it is." I nodded and took my content face back to the horizon. "A little lass... wouldn't that be something!"

I silently dwelled on the thought of that notion while Henry fiddled around with his... mobile, was it? I was barely adjusting to desk telephones! I hated those blasted wireless devices. Henry turned to me when he saw me studying his agile texting skills. "What?"

"I'm just... wondering how you use that thing..."

"Well, no offense, Killian..." He winced at me. "But you do sort of need both hands to work around these things."

I side-grinned. "You'd be surprised how skilled I am with this thing..." I shook my hook a little. "One gets used to it. Go on, let me look..."

Henry blushed. "I'd rather... not."

That got a grin from me as I raised my brow. "Oh! A young lady, is it?"

He huffed and put the phone down. "Promise not to tell my mom just yet?"

"Which one?"

"Either one! Emma would fuss and Regina would spit fireballs for weeks..."

Henry was practically my son now, so these small manly pep talks made me feel like I had been doing something right ever since I had married his mother. "Well, mate, do tell..."

"She lives in Boston. Her name is Elizabeth."

"Boston, is it?"

"Yeah. We met online.. I mean, like, on the internet?"

I furrowed my brow; he knew well enough that there was little I understood about all that. "Carry on..."

"Well, she sort of... friendzoned me."

"Friendzoned?"

"Yeah." He turned to me with a nod. "That's when a girl you really, really like, sort of sees you like you were her twin brother, or something." He shrugged. "She's got a crush on this guy named Gary and worst of all, she tells me everything. It hurts... "

I let out a huff. "Aye, mate, unrequited love; an ailment I know too well."

"Really?" He sneered. "A guy like you?"

"Aye, even ravishingly handsome Captains can get broken hearts, lad."

He laughed. "You do think highly of yourself, don't you?"

I nodded. "I do indeed, and so should you."

"So.. what did you do?"

I sighed and looked ahead. "Waited." I looked at him again. "She had to make up her mind. I was there, by her side, every minute, every hour, when she needed my help, I'd be there. I couldn't help it."

"She loved someone else?"

"Indeed."

"Did you get a chance in the end?"

I sighed and looked at him. "Yes."

"And what happened?"

"Well..." I sat up. " "It took a while. I wooed her incessantly, but still kept enough distance to respect her space..."

"Didn't it hurt? I mean, like, wanting so bad to maybe hug her or kiss her and having to... stand away?"

"That it did. Like a thousand knives. Every day. But I pressed on. I knew I'd win her over someday..."

"And did you?"

I smirked at him. "Aye... I married her."

The realization of what I was telling him took maybe three seconds to hit him before he finally smiled. "My mom put you through hell..."

"Aye, boy, she did, but alas..." I raised an eyebrow to him. "I'd do it again in a heartbeat. If it were easy, it wouldn't be fun, now, would it? Listen here..." I turned the chair to him. "Any good woman worth your while is bound to put up a fight. They know their worth, they won't give in easily. You have to be willing to fight for her; if she caves in after one try, she's not for you, but if she makes you struggle, you'll find yourself drawn to her like a fly wanting a taste of honey... and believe me, if you persist and do eventually get to taste that honey, you'll never taste another again. That will be it."

"That's... very deep... Killian." He narrowed his eyes. "Not sure I wanna hear too much about my mom's honey, though..."

"I wouldn't tell you anyway, Henry!" I laughed aloud. "Just follow the advice I gave you, lad. You'll get there..."

He nodded. "So, is this the part where you pull out your flask and we share a drink?"

I turned sharply to him. "Are you mad?" I huffed. "First off, you're a child still..."

"I'm sixteen, Killian, don't think I've never had a drink of booze before."

"Not on your life!" I frowned. "You're looking at a dying man who started to drink when he was at least ten years older than you are now and look where it's gotten me! Forget it, lad, you won't see me handing you that flask!"

"Just one sip!"

"No, no and no! Final word!"

I think I had sort of nailed this "being a dad" thing. The boy grinned and nodded. "I thought you always said that Rum never hurts..."

"Daft ramblings of a blinded pirate, mate." I shuffled his hair. "I love you too much to set you off down that path."

He saddened after a brief silence. "Please don't die..."

I had to put all my energy into swallowing the sailor's knot in my throat. "I wish I could just erase all that, Henry, I honestly do."

"Do you think Neverland will fix you?"

I sighed. "I think it will just buy me time, though not a lot. It's a big risk, Henry. If I drink from that stream and then get back it might even shorten my breath as opposed to giving me an extra leg of life." Just as I was speaking, pain took over. This particular pain was truly one of gothic proportions, sort of like getting stabbed, only worse. I must have gone whiter than a fresh sail, because Henry stood and ran for a glass of water. "Thank you, lad..." I moaned as I reached out for the glass with a shaky hand. "Damn, that hurts..."

"You'd think Dr. Whale would have at least given you something for the pain."

"He did. I haven't taken the blasted pill..."

"Well, then! what are you waiting for?"

"Don't trust them, mate!" I winced and keeled over.

"Ah, Killian for god's sake!" He reached into my satchel and produced the pills. "Ok, which ones are there... Vicodin?"

"That would be it."

"Well, here's to hoping you don't turn into Dr. House..." He popped a pill out and handed it to me. "Take it. Now..."

I looked at him from under my winced brow. "You're just as bossy as your mother."

"Yeah, well, it's not fair for her to be looking after two kids, now, is it? Take the pill, Killian."

I took the pill in a shaky hand and popped it back into my throat, swallowing it with the glass of water. "God alive.. that is painful..." As the ache wore off, I turned my eyes to him. He looked terrified, whiter than a sheet, and I immediately felt bad for having him witnessed my ailment. I reached out and grabbed his wrist, as i caught my breath. "I'm so sorry you had to see this, son..."

The 'son' part slipped out. I thought of him as such, but had never quite verbalized it and I felt slightly embarrassed. .. but I didn't expect the boy's noble reply. "That's ok, dad, that's what family is for."

I rolled my eyes to his and smiled. "Go on, get yourself to school, lad." I sighed. "I'll be fine, now. And don't you forget what I said about this young lady you're pursuing... be a gentleman, give her room, but toe the line... and she will be yours."

"That's awesome..." He nodded with a smile as he picked up his rucksack. " I'll see you later. Don't tell mom I came here, ok?"

"Wouldn't dream of it."

"Killian?"

"Yes? I turned to the door.

He stared at me and pressed his lips together. "Do you think you can teach me how to use that sextant now? I mean, not NOW, now, but... "

I smiled. "I'd be honored, mate."

"Great! See you later!"

"Farewell, lad, have a good day!" And he was off.

After that visitation, it was impossible for me to stop smiling. Henry had reached that awkward age where there's definite need for a father in his life and the notion of birthing a little princess with my Swan was far too enticing. I'd live. Neverland or not, I'd find a way.


	4. Chapter 4: falling Ill

**Part four: Falling Ill.**

I received a call from Killian one afternoon; he was practically begging me to pick him up in the bug, which was not really a good thing; he was in severe pain.

He had always been pretty much a good walker; he loved pacing and prancing around with those horrid black boots that somehow made him feel important, and in Storybrooke he always sort of picked the wooded areas to try and get some peace and quiet. He has basically a walking human compass; his sense of orientation was one in a million. Whereas I could park the bug and not remember where the hell I'd left it, he'd be leading me back to the vehicle without effort. I suppose that hundreds of years navigating under stars and solstices will give a man the skill to know exactly where and how he's standing. His biggest struggle, however, had been high road speeds. Funny man that he was, he could handle massive ocean storms and vortexes, sea monsters, mermaids, sharks and all other violent marine hazards with no additional safety measure other than one hand and one hook clamped onto the helm; but 90 mph on the bug would send him into near panic. I recall him throwing up once, if I'm not mistaken... so for him to be asking me for a lift back home, especially in such a small town and in view of his utter dislike for riding in modern cars, was definitely not good.

When I got to the docks, I had expected him to be waiting for me by the door. But I actually had to get inside and help him stand and walk. Killian was never neither really tall nor extremely well built, so I was pretty surprised at how heavy his body felt as I helped him into the back seat of the car to lie down in excruciating pain.

He wanted to go back to the apartment; I took him back to the hospital instead. He cursed under his breath for it but I didn't really care too much... If they could at least ease the pain, I would be content, or at least as content as one can be given the context of his condition. By the time we reached hospital, Killian was drawn, sweating cold and with a permanent wince on his face. I don't know it if was more painful for him or for me; I held his hand (he damn near ripped mine off!) and let the nurses and orderlies rush him to get the attention he needed. I waited in the ER to hear if he had been settled and my mind reeled back to that day, the day that made my whole world turn on its axis.

Flashback:

_This is an actual pirate ship: Like, a REAL pirate ship where REAL pirates once dangled from its ropes, hooks, cannons, cogs and masts... One surviving pirate still does. I've been on it quite a few times already, but this is something else... Killian finally found the pluck to make an actual date happen. Let's just see what this swashbuckling charmer's REALLY capable of._

_I've known about his crush on me for a while now, since our Neverland expedition to find my son, as a matter of fact.I won't say I would have flat out refused him then, but it was just not the time; there was so much going on... I have since noticed how he has lost his anger; he has gone from angry, vengeful pirate to calm and gentle advisor, ready with a kind word, a flirt grin or, if needed, a protective sword. He could have very well kept mum about Neil being alive after that kiss, and yet, he told me of it, knowing full well he was on the losing end when it came to the father of my son; he has the means to overpower me any day but he chooses to be a gentleman; I do feel his gaze from time to time, burning the back of my neck, and I can nearly see him swoon if I as much as grin at him . He is very good with Henry, out of love for both his late father and myself, and maybe also because he does have some of his late lover's blood diluted in there somewhere. Were this a real political connection, this whole thing would be incredibly awkward. He loves me to friggin' death... that much is obvious._

_The one thing that ISN'T obvious it that I'm head over heels in love with the guy as well. We're so much alike he and I, and part of that is our pride. I can't yield before someone whom I swore I would never give the time of day. He's a pirate. A typical, leather clad, fairy-tale book pirate, minus the periwig, waxed moustache and ludicrous feather hat. That, and his uncanny sex appeal. And his eyes. And his voice. And his accent. And the tight leather pants. And even the fact that he has a hook instead of a left hand. That's sexy too. Need I go on?_

_"We can't go on pretending this didn't happen... " He said to me not long ago, regarding that kiss. Ah, that kiss. Who am I kidding? I relive it every night; I can still feel a slightly sore chin from the gentle graze of his stubby beard, the tip of his tongue prodding my lips and the sound of his heavy, sensual breathing, desperate and passionate. Damn, that was a good kiss! But it was MY initiative, my challenge and I did warn him he wouldn't be able to handle it. I was right, as always. And since I'm always right, if I allow him to charm the pants out of me I'll probably wind up in jail and pregnant... or cheated out one way or another... or he could die and I'd mourn man-o-my-life number three. Take a pick, Emma._

_Wait... that's not... it can't be... is it? It is! Holy crap, talk about a sight for sore eyes!_

_"Where on earth did you get this?" I smile, pleasantly surprised at the fact that he is wearing a very mundane suit and tie... and that he looks AMAZING in it._

_"Your boy is a sneaky little matchmaker." He grins and holds out a hand to help me down as I walk from the gangplank to the deck. "I found this on my bed with a note attached to it..." He pulls out a note. "Wear this... and bathe!" He reads and chuckles. "I do bathe regularly, Swan, don't get the wrong idea…"_

_"Henry's playing cupid... who would have known..." I grin as I take the note and fold it into my cleavage. He's staring. I don't mind. I normally would but... no, I don't._

_"You look ravishing, Swan. Brighter than all the stars above us…" He smiles. "You do clean up nice yourself. Not that you don't ALWAYS look like a diamond, it's just that..."_

_"I'm not in the rough tonight?" I grin as he pulls out a chair for me. He actually set up a candlelit dinner table? Ok, I can play with this... no, wait, Emma, don't let your guard down! He's a pirate!_

_He nodds. "My thoughts exactly." He walks to his side of the table and sits. "So, feeling hungry?"_

_"I am." I feel myself smile like a friggin' dummy. "What's on the menu, Captain?"_

_He reaches out and pulls the lid off of a large platter. "Hope you like it..."_

_I frown and look into the plate. "Is that... paella?"_

_"Aye..."_

_"Where the hell would you get this?"_

_"You offend me, milady!" He mocks. "I made this myself. My specialty."_

_I am officially shocked. "Wait… You can... cook?"_

_"Aye... Having one hand is not necessarily an impediment, you know, I can actually stick this metal limb into the flames without as much as a scathing." He does a playful little brow dance._

_"Well, aren't you a treat?"_

_"I always have been, love." He says as he pours me a cup of white wine. "Glad you gave yourself the chance to see that I am much more than just a handsome face..." Cue knee rattling wink._

_I smile. I don't know any more if his narcissistic arrogance is annoying or if it's just so much a part of who he is that it's actually endearing. Creep. Gorgeous, adorable, handsome, lovable creep._

_And his paella rocks, by the way._

_We talk about silly things, meaningful things, deep things, funny things… and it turns out he's quite the table charmer: Beautiful, sad and funny stories all around. He's seen the world… all worlds, actually. He emanates nostalgia and love, oozing that charismatic charm of his out of every pore and follicle._

_Wow, the wine's getting to me, I should stop before I wind up doing something I might regret… except, I won't regret it. I'm sick of regretting… keep it coming, Killian._

"_Easy on the wine, darling…" he laughs._

"_Wine is joy." I smile._

_He smiles pleasantly; there is a light in his eyes… this guy really does love me, doesn't he? Wow… Ok, who are you and what did you do with that mean, dark browed son of a bitch, Captain Hook?_

"_I'll show you joy…" he cleans his mouth with a napkin and places it on the table before standing up. He walks around the table and stands by my side, holding out his good hand and hiding his hook behind his back, and bending forward just a little, he looks into my eyes. "It would be an honor if you could grant me this dance, milady."_

_I laugh. "Hook, there's no music…"_

_He looks all around him with a risen brow. "Well, I can hear orchestras playing all around…" He looks back at me. "You're embarrassing me, princess…" He winks again. Ok. I'm sold. _

_I smile and hold his hand… I can see him trying to conceal a shiver and I shiver myself. His hand is a bit rough; it would be, after years of pulling ropes and scrubbing and climbing and pulling sails. I still melt into his embrace and we dance to the sounds of the water as it gently hits the wooden sides of the Jolly Roger. The wind stirs up the magic and I am amazed to find out he actually can lead a pretty good slow dance. I belong here, right here, in his arms. He smells so good: soap, a little bit of leather that would have rubbed off into his actual body and maybe a small amount of fresh sweat. Not a bad sweat. The sexy sort of sweat. I'm dying on my feet here. The temperature's rising and I feel I might start sweating myself and unlike him, I suck at playing it cool once I cross that line…_

_I can feel him breathing as he holds me against him. I feel my arms come into life all on their own and release his hand and shoulder to surround his neck. Hand and hook on waist. He really is very, very conscious of what he does with that metal thing. He pulls me closer and I find myself suddenly looking up into his eyes._

_He stops breathing; all his arrogance and pose have vanished and he stops dancing. He is just staring into my eyes and into my soul and I feel naked but at home. His huge, sky blue eyes suddenly lose their catlike sensuality and are sad and vulnerable. He studies my face and a whisper leaves his lips. "I love you, Emma…"_

_The walls are down, like Jericho. I feel my hand touch his face and I can't stop losing myself in those deep, blue pools, as I reply to him in an equal whisper…. "Killian… I love you too."_

_A small shadow of a grin crosses his lips as he slowly leans into mine. They meet and touch, gently prodding and feeling. This is not like in Neverland… or it is. Maybe it always was. Only here there's nothing between us anymore. No fears, no, anger, no vengeance pending; Just a man and a woman deeply in love with one another, dancing under the stars. We pull apart and he touches my face. "My love…" he whispers. _

_I smile and swallow. "You… have a bed here?"_

_He frowns. "Beg pardon?"_

"_I love you." I say assertively. "And I want you… I have wanted you for ages."_

_He sighs and nods. "Just over there…"_

_He leads, I follow. He opens the door to the captain's quarters and lights up an oil lamp. That's the only light we get. We continue to kiss and hold each other. The kisses become hungrier as I manage to pull off his tie, feeling grateful that he didn't choose a more eighteenth century-like garment that would be impossible to remove. He kisses me and holds me by my shoulders. "My Swan…" He whispers. He unzips my dress and makes a smart comment about the utility of zippers. I laugh and then continue to just feel. He has removed his shirt. He has a fair amount of body hair, but I still think he looks marvelous. A couple more tattoos that are hidden from regular view and more than a few battle scars line his back and arms. I want to kiss him, all of him, so I just let myself go as the dress slips to the floor. His breathing rate has increased and I can feel him, well, "rise" to the occasion. Good thing. I'm in my underwear and he is trying to figure out how to remove a modern-day bra. I save him the trouble. He looks at me with a grin and then gently pushes me back on to that tiny bed of his. It will have to do. He is on top of my body; his lips are exploring my neck, my collarbone and my breasts as he repeatedly professes his love for me. I feel his hair between my fingers. I wish I could pull him hard and make him a part of my heart as he reaches down and touches me, swiftly, lovingly… and hot. Very, very hot. I want to feel him in my hands, so I reach down and he is notoriously easy to find. I undo his very modern trousers with ease and find him there, ready and willing, and he releases a mild groan as I wrap my hand around him, pressing, gently pulling, making him feel just as good as he is making me feel. _

"_No turning back now, Swan…" He pants into my ear._

"_One more thing…" I stop and I touch his face with both hands._

"_Name it, lave…"_

"_Remove that brace…"_

_It seems that in spite of being naked by my side, the sight of his amputated hand is still something he hasn't quite come to terms with. He looks subdued and doesn't move, so I remove it for him. Indeed, there's a small, thin stump there where his wrist would have connected to his left hand. His gaze is diverted, embarrassed… and then I take his damaged extremity and kiss it gently. His eyes meet mine again and the smile returns to his face. He takes me then. Kissing me as I feel him inside of me… so this is what they meant with true love, did they? It feels like that. He and I are one, in every way now. I can't believe how whole it makes us both feel to be making love. He gains momentum and so do I and he keeps whispering my name and how much he loves me. I do the same and mean every word. I climax hard and he smiles. Minutes later, he too reaches his climax. He stares at my face, sweating, breathing hard and caressing my cheek with his one thumb. "Have I won your heart, Emma?" He breathes. "Do you want me?"_

"_Yes…." I smile back and kiss him deep._

…

"Mrs. Jones?"

The voice of the orderly brought me back around. "Yeah..."

"You may go in now…"

I nodded and followed her index finger. At the very bottom, by the window, Killian lay sleeping. He looked so frail there, in a hospital bed. I had seen him like this before, bruised, beaten, with broken ribs… and that feuding acquaintance seemed like three lifetimes away now. I reached over and touched his hand. He opened his eyes and from underneath his oxygen mask I could see a faint smile. He gently squeezed my hand and I was unable to contain a wayward tear that slid down my cheek.

I knew then that Neverland was out the window. He would never make it there, let alone back.

I just smiled at him and leaned over to kiss his forehead. "I love you…" I whispered, as he fell asleep under the soothing effects of the painkillers.

As soon as he was asleep, I ran out and made a beeline to Gold's pawnshop.

I paced around anxiously. "Gold!" Gold!"

With the tinkling bell came the sound of his footsteps. "Miss Swan." He whispered.

I turned to look at him, sweating and teary-eyed. "You have to do something… Please, I'm begging you."

He shook his head sympathetically. "Miss Swan, I know exactly what your plight is. I do." He shook his head. "But like I said to the Captain and like I have told everyone who's come to try and stop the death of a loved one… The only way to stop this… is with the price of one life, no matter which spell you use."

"I know…" I nodded. "I'll give my own. He has to live… please!"

Mr. Gold frowned. "I'm sorry dearie… I'm afraid I cannot let you do that."

"WHY?" I shout. "He's dying!"

"Why would you want to die in his stead?" He tilted his head to one side.

"Because I have already seen one too many people die on me, people I loved." I wept. "Your son was one of them…"

"Yes… Bae…" His gaze was aimed at the floor. "Like I said, I know your plight. But I still cannot let you."

"I'll pay you…" I shook my head.

"Your money's no good to me."

"But…"

"You claim that you don't want anyone else to die for you… but have you thought of your children?"

I frowned. "Henry? Killian's a brilliant father, he can take care of Henry, and he has Regina as well, he will be…"

"Ah-ah-ah!" He raised a finger. "You didn't listen, Emma. I didn't say child… I said, children."

I frowned. "I only have one son."

He smiled at me. "And what about the one you carry inside of you now?"

I lost my breath, wide-eyed. "What?"

He smiled at me. "You are a week pregnant, my dear. You have another life in your hands." He walks around the counter, with his stick, limping in my direction. "We have all been through way too much for me not to feel for both you and the Captain. But the good news is, you have a child coming your way. A Princess."

I reached and touched my stomach, laughing and weeping at the same time. "Killian…"

Rumple sighed hard. "I know what you're feeling, dear. I miss my Belle. She was my entire life's purpose after Bae and my strength. But she was gone before I could do anything to save her. So I do understand. I may not have a good history with Mr. Jones, but I do feel for you… and for my grandson, who loves him much like he loved my Bae." He touched my shoulder. "Go… tell him the news. Perhaps the fresh tidings will give him the extra strength he needs right now."

I bowed my head and left. I felt overjoyed at the thought. Killian and I had tried hard to have a baby and now, here it was. But it ached my heart to think he might never see her.

I spent the rest of the day by his side, waiting for him to wake. He wasn't discharged until nightfall, with a whole new batch of painkillers and with Dr. Whale's clear explanation that this disease was advancing much faster than he expected. If Killian made it past the next week, it would be a miracle.

I helped him up the stairs and was met by David halfway up. He helped Killian up the rest of the flight and laid him down on our bed in the upper side of the loft.

After I explained to them what had happened, I went to his side. He looked tired, but still refused to go a day without his trademark eyeliner. "Emma…" he whispered. "Where's my hook? Can I have it back, please?"

I nodded and reached into my bag for his brace and hook. After I fastened it he sighed. "This thing… represents me." He looked at me. "Make sure it's fasted on me, love, when I ride the Jolly on its final voyage…"

"Killian…" I wept.

"Shh, now now, Swan, we had a deal…" he held his right hand up and I cuddled up against him, crying hard. "There, there, darling. It's just the way of things. All will be well eventually, you'll see… You'll meet someone else and he will be even better for you…"

"That's impossible… you're my one….y ou know… my, err.."

He laughed. "Oh, Emma, you still can't say it… Your one true love?"

"Yes!"

"I am indeed, love…" He smiled. "But that doesn't mean you can't ever love anyone else. I loved my Milah. I did, with all my heart. But she was not my one true love. That part was always yours."

"You can't die…"

He chuckled. "I'm a man of flesh and blood and I can assure you, I can."

I looked up at him with a grin. "The book was right, Killian…" I sniffed. "Henry… what he showed us…"

He frowned. "Wait… are you saying..?"

I nodded a teary-eyed smile. "We're having a baby."

His ear to ear smile was priceless. "That's indeed capital news…" He held me hard against him. "Wonderful!"

"You see?" I continued to weep through my smile. "You can't leave us, Killian, please, not you too…"

"Oh, Emma…" he pressed my head to his shoulder, whispering. "If only it were up to me…" He winced mildly.

After a few minutes, he was once again asleep and I joined Mary Margaret and David downstairs. As always, Mary Margaret met me with a reassuring hug.

That was that. I went to bed and kissed him goodnight and just prayed that tomorrow he'd have a better day.


	5. Chapter 5: Rumple's final deal

**NOTE FROM AUTHOR:**

**I've been asked repeatedly if this story will have a happy ending… the answer is, yes, at least happy for Hook and his peeps. =)**

**I wouldn't dare kill good old Killian. But there are some who think that angst is not an acceptable genre for those of us who love the character. To them, I say first off: well, I am sorry you're not enjoying the story; I cordially invite you to stop reading it if it bothers you so much, you're under no obligation to continue. Second, if you don't like to see angst in characters, well then, you shouldn't even watch the show, the man's permanently in pain, at least most of the time. And third, the reason I chose this particular topic is because there IS a lesson to be learned from it: Killian Jones, for all his charm and beauty and charisma,**** IS ****an alcoholic and the tale is about redemption from a life of mistakes… I lost someone very dear to alcohol, so try to think of it as something that could really happen if one isn't careful. **

**Having said that, I thank all others for their support, most comments have been very positive and encouraging. I hope none other are offended (although I think in all good reason that it's better to stay away from things that offend us, so… please, if you're NOT enjoying this, DON'T READ IT.) Amen.**

Part 5: Rumple's final deal.

I have always been afraid... afraid to fail, afraid to hurt or get hurt, afraid to lose that which I hold dearest and afraid to die. It has earned me a lifelong title of cowardice which, I have to admit, is befitting. The power I obtained with a magic dagger that transformed me into some sort of living demon served as a mask of my own great fears, but they never really went away. I sacrificed the love of my wife and my son's company in my despair to claim a different reputation, as someone to be feared... and the consequences of these decisions haunted me for hundreds of years.

My wife left me for another man, one who was younger and far more fearless... and handsome, like few men I have ever encountered; a rouge pirate with an overwhelmingly charismatic personality who, like all young and beautiful men, was proud, arrogant and secure in his position as the leader of a gang of sea rascals. I should have understood and had I not been blinded by ached rage, I probably would have: Being so young and beautiful, Milah chose a life of freedom at his side and he only complied with her wishes of being taken away. Any man in love would. But the ache of losing her and the rage of holding our son as he wept for his forlorn mother set me off. I could think of nothing else but making his life miserable... and that is exactly what I did. I killed my wife, saw her draw her final breath in his arms, and savored the taste of the fresh batch of tears in his eyes as he cradled her lifeless body. And then I cut off his hand. I didn't have to; he could have been persuaded to let go of what he held in his hand without me slicing off his limb, but I did it anyway, out of spite... so he would remember to not ever, ever come near Rumplestiltskin's affairs again. And that got me nothing but a grudge from an angered and hurt pirate who instead of remaining distant did everything in his power to find me and slaughter me, going as far as moving himself to Neverland so he'd live long enough to carefully plot my demise, at any cost. I poisoned his soul in a way neither he nor I thought possible... and worst of all, I poisoned my son against me as well. He was the one thing left in my life worth fighting for... but even he became a second priority to that of my ever-hungry quest of immortal, unbeatable power.

Killian Jones was no saint, I'll admit, but he was not the murderous villain he became after I killed Milah and cut his hand; he was a sassy, smarmy, mouthy young man with favoring looks, a strong taste for rum and women and the wistful arrogance of the young. He was maybe cockier than the average youngster, being the youngest Captain to ever reach such a rank. Because he actually WAS a Captain; inherited the post form his late brother while they both served the Navy, but Killian went crimson after the famous Liam Jones passed away due to their King's malice. The Jolly Roger was once called The Jewel of the Realm and was rechristened after Killian first lost faith in his King. He was no stranger to despair: His father abandoned him at five, left the little boy to fend for himself, until Liam, a boy from another relationship, found him and cared for him. Both boys survived by scavenging through the garbage, begging... and stealing. It is quite commendable that the Jones Brothers actually straightened their paths and became reputable high ranking sea officials. As clean cut as they could get. But Killian left with his brother, the original captain of the Jewel, on an impossible mission, only to return alone, teary eyed... and a pirate.

We all have our scars; but when I was confronted with him to defend my wife, I was humiliated by his arrogance and the weight of his personality. He challenged me to a duel, which would have been, at least in those days, the honorable way to fight for a woman. But I was too scared... In truth, he didn't "steal" Milah... I let her go. She left me. It was as simple as that. But as soon as I managed to obtain power, I found him and made him pay for the result of my lack of manhood. Not that I was entirely to blame, he did need a bit of a spanking, that dear boy, to learn some humility... But I killed my wife, a woman whom, in spite of her actions, had given me a beautiful son. Nothing can justify such a dark, terrible action. Not because I cared about Killian at all... but because in murdering Milah, I punched a black blemish into my own soul.

I lied to my son. He grew up believing a Pirate had taken his mother and murdered her out in the sea after having had his way with her. I was too scared to tell him his father, his papa, had been the one to rip out her heart and crush it before the heartbroken pirate's eyes.

Irony of fate would have it that years later, after my son and I parted ways (again, I was too afraid to let go off my power), my beautiful Baelfire would somehow find his way into the ship of that same angry pirate who had lost his hand to my rage. I had no knowledge of this until many years later, and I have to say now, I am grateful to Captain Jones. He could have used my boy to wield his vengeance and sent him back to me with a hook in his throat. But instead, he took him under his wing, almost like a son of his own. He had loved Milah that much... But again, my lies and poison took effect, and after my son discovered that he was the Pirate who had stolen his mother's heart, he turned his back on Jones, who practically begged him to stay with him on the Jolly Roger. Bae abandoned Killian and continued to bounce from one realm to the other until he collided, as fate would have it, with Emma Swan.

And it took Killian years to stop hunting me. But eventually, he did.

When my son died, we had already made our peace, all of us. And although thanks to the twisted ideals of an envious green witch I missed my own son's burial, I was told that Killian Jones was the first attendee to solemnly shovel soil into my boy's grave, with tears in his eyes. Again, I am grateful to my foe for that.

Killian, Captain Hook, had made peace with the world, while mine was crumbling down, the outcome of hundreds of years of malice and evil doings.

Along the line of the years, a beauty fell in love with a beast. Her name was Belle, and she was exactly what her name depicted. Beautiful, inside and out. She redeemed me; saw the one thing in me that no one, not even I, knew was there: kindness. I gradually became human again through her love, her glimmering smile and her ocean blue eyes. She saved me from Hook's wrath and better still, from my own. My one true love... We had all finally settled in peace in Storybrooke, not exactly as friends, but wistful enough to leave each other well and good alone. Killian, true to his own self, married the mother of my late son's boy, Emma, and though it might seem like a fortuitous repetition, I can say that the savior couldn't have found a better man after my son died; and I married my Belle. A year later she gave me the happiest tidings: She was to have my child, another son. We were overjoyed. whatever trace of anger left in me withered away and I was thrilled with anticipation... but as she reached her twenty-eighth week into term, she bled out, in our bed, an event that led to her almost immediate death. I would have cast a spell to trade her place for her to live, but she made me swear I wouldn't, and as I saw her light escape her gaze, she bid farewell to me and this world with a smile and the words "I love you".

Now I am truly alone.

Recently, it has come to my attention that Killian Jones is terminally ill. I feel for my grandson. Since Bae left, Captain Jones has been more than a father for him, and like he did with my boy, he is doing a bloody good job at it. I also feel for the young Emma Swan, who is expecting their first child and who has also lost innumerable loves in her life. I feel for the Charmings in general, who have pretty much molded and shaped the man Killian Jones became once his anger was spent and his desire to kill was sated. I could very well do a spell; a life for a life. It's the only way. But I really don't believe the Captain would appreciate anyone he loves dying for him... or anyone he doesn't love. He was the first to come and ask for my help. His wife then came to beg for it, but left after I told her she was to have his child. My grandson, his adopted son, Henry, came for my help, but I also turned him away.

But not because I wasn't going to help; I just didn't want to see any of them die. It has taken me a long time and an insurmountable amount of pain to fully grasp the meaning of "good". The Charmings are a family with a clean slate; except maybe for Killian who does have more than a few red numbers in his sheet, but has managed to clear his debts trough love alone. Good people with good hearts.

I found a way to help them. And, of course, to help my own interests as well.

I took a long look at my shop; this place had once held the promise of a home filled with love and laughter, but with Belle gone, it was no more than a museum of dark and painful souvenirs. Hopefully, each and every item in it would find its way back to its owner. I sighed and nodded with a smile, clenching that last mysterious item in my hand and my dagger in my pocket.

When I reached the home of the Charmings, I was greeted by an emaciated Emma. She looked like she had wept enough to fill in a dam and the evidence of late nights spent caring for the terrible pain of her beloved Captain was finely ridged under and around her eyes in the shape of horrid black circles.

"Mr. Gold..." She muttered under her breath.

"May I come in?"

David peered from behind her shoulder. "What do you want here, Gold?"

I could understand his trepidation; he too had torn a few walls to let the wayward pirate in both as a friend and as a son-in-law, a relative. It probably ached him as much as it ached the rest of his family, especially in view of his daughter's sadness.

"I've come to help." I nodded plainly.

Mary Margaret, or Snow White, as I preferred to think of her, stepped close to me. "I thought you said it was impossible…"

Emma stood aside as I let myself in. "Let me speak with the Captain."

David shook his head. "Why would he want to see you?"

"Because..." I turned to him with an appeased grin. "I'm here to make my final peace with him. Surely you fine people cannot deny either of us that privilege, can you?"

Emma Swan, looking tired and sadder than I had ever seen her, sighed. "Don't upset him…"

"Emma!" David spat.

"I won't let Killian go like that, hating anyone." She shook her head at her father. "He's come so far. Besides…" She looked back at mer. "There are a lot of amends to be made here."

The savior… indeed she was. More than she knew.

"Thank you, Miss Swan." I bowed my head slightly. "Where is he?"

She signaled the way up with a tilt of her head. He was in the upper layer of the flat, probably bedridden. I turned to the others, "Excuse me…" and I made my way up as Mary Margaret and David tried to persuade Emma to drag me back down the stairs.

The room was darkened, with the shades drawn. In bed lay Killian Jones, still dashingly handsome albeit definitely yellow-skinned due to his ailment, wearing one of his own white, frilled shirts. He turned a saddened face to me and his dry, chapped lips parted slightly. "Well, look what the cat dragged in…" he mustered with a voice far coarser and weaker than his normal tone, but with the same sneering, leering sarcastic grin. "Come to mock me, crocodile?"

"I'd mock you… if I found your situation comical, Mr. Jones." I replied coldly. "Alas, I do not."

Killian released two muffled coughs. I looked into his eyes and couldn't help feeling sad; despite our feuding, I had admired his tenacity and his formidable willpower and energy that never seemed to dwindle; only now, he looked like that final flicker of a candle about to burn the tail end of its wick. That splendid young man, the handsome Captain of the Jolly Roger, was but a shadow of a memory inside those sad, drawn blue eyes.

"What do you want?" He whispered.

I sighed and pulled a chair to sit at his bedside. "You might not believe this, Captain." I huffed as I sat down with a strained whimper. "But I have actually come to apologize to you." That produced a frown on his face, expressing the doubt he was too weak to verbalize. "Yes, as you heard." I swallowed. "…and of course, to accept your apology as well, Jones." I placed both hands on my cane and looked into his glazed, yellowish eyes. "You see, even though we haven't quite swaddled our swords for three hundred years, I do believe we are not quite… how can I say this? Clear on the subject of our feud. See, I have come here with no intention of harming you or anyone in your family, for two reasons. The first of which would be my son." I sighed and he swallowed, listening intently. "Bae was the center of my life, Killian. You had him in your power for many, many years… and you never harmed him. In fact…" I nodded. "You made a decent man of him, a man, like you say, with a code, a code he took to his grave. My question is…" I leaned forward. "Why? You could have done me a great deal of damage by hurting Bae, like you did Belle. Yet you didn't. Why, Hook?"

He glared at me in silence; I could tell he was gathering his strength to reply.

"He wasn't only your son." He whispered calmly. "He was Milah's boy… he had her smile. And I knew of his pain… the pain of knowing your father… chose another life for himself. Selfishly so. The boy had … dug through garbage before he was taken in by a family in London. When Pan… took him… he fell into the water and I pulled him out. The lost boys… lived miserable lives. He was a good lad." He paused. "He deserved better."

I leaned back. "You loved him well…"

"That I did." He swallowed. "Even when… he and I were… vying for Emma … much as it hurt, I … always knew that if she were to choose Baelfire… she'd be in good hands."

He didn't hesitate once in his reply; the hateful pirate that had tried to poison me and take me out in the past was gone. This was a kind man on his deathbed and I knew now I was doing the right thing.

"Fair enough, captain." I nodded. "This leads me to my second issue… Milah." I looked down. "Why?"

He grinned that cheeky side grin of his. "Dark One… is there a 'why' when a man and a woman fall for each other? There are no why's and, no because's." he swallowed and coughed again. "We fell in love. She wanted me to take her with me in the Jolly Roger. Now tell me… crocodile…" He tried to sit up, leaning on one elbow. "If you had been in my shoes… if you had been in love and she had asked you to take her with you… would you have left her behind?" He shook his head. "I was young, very reckless and … just full of idealism…" He turned his gaze to me. "But that doesn't jusify my behavior… For my petty arrogance, Rumplestiltskin, I do apologize. No man should be made to grovel, especially not for love of his family." He collapsed back in his bed.

That was all I needed.

I nodded and stood up. "I hope, then, Mr. Jones, that you'll accept my apology. I have come to make amends on that."

He huffed with a smile. "Bit too late for that, mate, don't you think?"

"No." I reached into my pocket and produced the two sided candle. "You know of this, Captain?"

He winced in pain before looking at me again. "Magic?"

"Indeed."

"I beg of you…" he whispered under his breath. "End this… end this pain. And make Emma and my children… age with someone who will … give them all the love they should have gotten from me."

I nodded. "This is exactly why I have come, Mr. Jones. To put an end to your suffering. Call it…" I made a gesture with my fingers. "… a final gesture, a peace offering."

He rubbed his lips together and nodded. "I have no quarrel with you now, Crocodile…" he closed his eyes. "Be done with it."

I nodded. "Farewell Captain."

I lit up the candle on both ends, one black and one white… and I whispered a name into the black side. _"Rumplestiltskin… Rumplestiltskin…"_

Killian licked his lips and a slow, happy grin appeared on them.

Flashback:

_I never thought I'd see the day…_

_She's the most stunning, perfect creature I have ever laid eyes on. All dressed in white, like a dove, smiling as she comes close to me. My heart is racing and I can't help smiling back at her. Bloody hell, even her father looks beautiful to me this day! She is holding on to him, to his arm, as she reaches me at the altar. David and I exchange looks; he knows I'll look after her, he knows that in my watch no harm will ever come to her or Henry. Took me pains to earn this bloke's trust. But for the life of me, the world is amiss to me right now; I don't believe I have ever felt as happy as I feel now, as she takes my hand and steps by my side. Henry is my little best man and he looks quite dashing, if I may say so. I think he too is terribly glad at the sight of his mother, and it must be said, she does look like an angel. Even the darkest creature would weep at the sight of her._

"_Let's get this done with, Swan…" I whisper in her ear after I lift the white veil. "We have an empty ship waiting and an ocean to see…"_

_She chuckles and holds my hand._


	6. Chapter 6: A life for a life

**NOTE FROM AUTHOR:**

**Final chapter. Hope you enjoyed!**

**Part 6: A Life for a Life**

I suddenly felt like I was lifted out of my pained and horrid deathbed. The light, bright and beautiful, shone through my closed eyelids. The pain disappeared and all was well.

I heard Emma scream and realized it was done. Or wait…

When I opened my eyes, Mr. Gold was leaning on the floor in Emma's arms, looking… well, yellow!

I saw Emma look up at me, stunned, bewildered… and then back at the Crocodile. "What happened?"

I crawled out of the bed while David and Mary Margaret joined us with equally stunned facades. I rolled myself to the floor, where Rumplestiltskin lay, looking much like his old Dark crocodile-skinned self. I could feel my strength return to my body; I could breathe deep and not feel that numbing ache in my gut. "I… know not…" I replied, rubbing the back of my neck. "I was dying and…" I looked at him. "He had a candle. A black and white candle…"

Mary Margart gasped hard and I turned to her sharply. "Oh dear god…" she looked at me. "That candle… is the one I used on Cora. He…" She shook her head. "He must have whispered his own name into the black end."

"I'm not sure I follow…"

"When lit, the black candle takes your life and gives it to the person who's dying." David added.

I turned to Rumplestiltskin. "What have you done?" I gasped.

He smiled at us. "A life… for a life… dearie…"

Emma held him and looked at me. "what the hell did you two talk about?"

"Tis no concern of yours, my dear..." He cackled at her. "I will be… where I want to be. That was my end of the bargain, and I never make a bargain unless I can get something out of it!" His face shifted to one of peace. "I'm soon to be… With my boy… my Belle… and my Milah. And you…" He looked at me. "You get to be where you want to be, pirate…" He laughed that wicked little laugh of his. "You will have a daughter, Captain Jones. Be mindful of her…" He showed us his horridly rotten teeth. "She, like her mother, will be the product of true love. There is… nothing more powerful… than that. And I will not be the last sorcerer ever to want to tap into the mystery… that is trrrue love…"

Emma looked at me. "Hook…" She smiled. "Your eyes…"

Frowning, I stood and looked at myself in the mirror. It was a welcome view. The white in my eyes was once again, well… white. My skin was a chilled snow color and I felt as if nothing had ever happened at all. "How did this happen?" My voice was shaking.

Mary Margaret stepped inside and knelt next to Emma and Rumplestiltskin. "Why did you do this?" She whispered to him.

He looked at me. "Because… I had a debt with the pirate, for the life of my son…" He smiled. "And, as you well know, I am Rumplestiltskin… I never recant on a debt!" I approached him and went down on my knees next to my wife. I was speechless, probably for the first time in my life, and all I could mutter was a soft and unembarrassed "Thank you."

"I'm not done with you yet, deary… there's one thing I yet have to bestow you with, still…" He waved his hand over me.

A mild glow surrounded my body and suddenly, a searing pain scorched me from underneath my hook brace. "BLOODY HELL!" I shouted in pain, reaching for my hook. I ripped off my brace and…

"Your hand!" Emma stared, wide-eyed.

My left hand, indeed. It was back… like it had never been gone at all. I was stunned into silence as I stared at my old hand back in its place. After a few minutes, I laughed and huffed out loud, curling and uncurling my fingers! "BLOODY HELL! MY HANDS! EMMA, LOOK!" I used both hands to hold Emma's face. I felt her, cleaned off her tears and ran both hands through her hair, before hugging her hard, laughing, crying, just making a bloody mess of myself. "Ipve got two of 'em, love! TWO!"

"Now we are even." Gold nodded. "I owe you… nothing." He looked at David. "When I'm gone, the dagger will have been rendered powerless. Take it and get rid of it, Prince Charming. The age of the Dark One has ended."

It was hard to control my breathing; I reached out and grabbed his arm with both my hands. BOTH. "I thank you… my friend." I smiled at him. No sooner had I said those words, his skin returned to a more human texture and he looked like he had always done in Storybrooke. A man not unlike any other, except far more extraordinary. I gently squeezed his limb. "And I take back what I said about you, all those years back. You are… no coward. You are… the bravest man in history… and the world is a better place for having known you." I grinned at him. "May you find peace… Rumplestiltskin."

He returned the arm-length handshake. "I already have … Killian Jones." He smiled.

I could not help the tear that ensued as his grip slowly weakened. "Please greet your son for me… and Milah…"

"Huh… You would say that…" He smiled.

And with that, Rumplestiltskin was gone.

I huffed, still wondering whether his gesture had been real. A cloud of smoke then emanated from the dagger in his pocket.

"Is he… gone?" David asked.

I reached out for his neck for a pulse and nodded, sadly. "Aye… he's passed."

Mary Margaret's voice cracked as she spoke. "His son would have been proud. He's a hero."

Emma smiled. I knew she was thinking about Baelfire and I truly didn't mind. He was a fine partner in crime, that lad. Loving the Swan was an epic adventure for both of us and in his stead I was to do as well as I could. Winning her love had not been a contest… it had been a privilege.

I reached for his eyes and closed them before removing the dagger from his pocket. There was no name on it any more. It was only a keepsake from a very long and Dark Age where two men with an uncannily similar past had wasted hundreds of years in petty hatred, plotting to destroy each other… only to become each other's savior in the end.

I reached out and held Emma to me. She looked into my eyes and grinned. "You look a damn sight better now."

I grinned back and kissed her forehead.

"Well, I guess we should call someone…" David said softly.

"Aye…" I nodded.

But we all remained stoic where we sat for ten minutes… a tribute to the biggest hero the world had ever been graced by.

…

A year ago, Hook and I welcomed our little one, Grace, into the family. She looks every bit like him. One wouldn't think I had anything to do with it at all, if it hadn't been for the excruciating birth pains that attest to the fact that she's my daughter. And, I have to say, it is a relief for me as a mom to know that Killian can play with her, change her diaper, hold her, sing her to sleep and whatever other stuff he does, without that damn ugly hook of his. Not that he would have hurt her, he was pretty skilled with the thing. It now sits perched on a rack, like some sort of movie prop. I think that, even though he loves having both hands again, he secretly misses the hook. It had become such a representation of himself…

He's doing well, for a man who's three hundred plus years old, almost died of liver failure and who just got his hand back. Actually…. He never did badly. I fell for him because not so deep inside has a heart of gold. Gold…

There is a statue of Mr. Gold, built in the main square. The whole town heard of his deed, and the plate reads "In memory of the bravest man in Storybrooke, the Enchanted Forest and the world." He is depicted as we all remember him, in a suit, with a fancy looking walking stick, his long hair hanging on either side of his face, looking stern. We laid him to rest next to Neal and Belle. He is indeed where he wanted.

As for our little combo, we struggle a bit from time to time, just like anyone else. Even when Killian is no longer a one-handed pirate with a serious drinking problem, he insists to be called Hook. It has become a part of who he is. Maybe I am the only one who calls him by his name, mostly because he likes it that way.

Henry turned out to be a superb babysitter. He adores his baby sister… even if…. Well, she does have a few funny skills that come to those who are born of true love, skills like mine, except that when I was one I don't think I could have ever accidentally tipped glasses of water or milk over my father's lap; I have heard more "bloody hells" in the past year alone than in the six years I've known Killian. All the same, I wouldn't give back a single day at his side. He is just… an amazing person, all around. It took a while for me to see past that thick smoke screen of his and even when it was there, I still had a hard time. But in the end, we were meant to be together. The time he almost left us was probably the hardest in my life. I would have missed out on his odd and crazy but incredible parenting skills. My daughter's gonna be a tomboy if Hook keeps this up! And Henry adores him. They go out all the time; Killian has taught him everything there is to know about navigating (without a GPS) and even when Henry doesn't know that I know, Killian HAS told me about some crush Henry has. He's got a pretty good head on his shoulders regarding the advice he gives my… our son; an interesting thing, taking into account how many women he has had in his clutches through his life. On occasion Henry calls him "Dad". Killian thinks I don't notice but a small and happy smirk crosses his lips whenever that happens. He adores Henry… after all, that boy has some of Milah, some of Neal, some of me… and some of the man who saved his life.

What bigger honor than to raise him to be a man like himself?

As for us? Still madly in love with each other. Do we fight? Hell yeah, like always. Could I live life without my Hook? Probably…but it wouldn't be half as charming, challenging, entertaining and beautiful. And besides, why would I want to?

Oh… and he still has his flask; he frequently pulls it out from his long leather raincoat and drinks from it. Except now it's filled with cranberry juice. It never hurts!


End file.
